Myriad Imaginings: All The Stories From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games

By Sophie Duncan and Natasha Duncan-Drake

2 writers, 31 days of writing madness, the result: 28 fabulously diverse stories for your reading pleasure, including horror, fantasy and science fiction, paranormal adventure, young adult and erotica.

In July 2012, Wittegen Press gave away a short story, or story part every day to their readers. Each story was only available for one day, but now all 28 stories have been gathered here into 1 volume where you can meet: a spy who becomes a vampire; a young professor with a mental gift beyond his intellect; a zombie cat and many more enthralling characters.

Fantasy & Science Fiction
-To Life Reborn by Natasha Duncan-Drake (Fantasy)
-The Gift by Sophie Duncan (Fantasy)
-Queen of Heaven by Natasha Duncan-Drake (Sci-Fi)
-Song for a Sovereign by Sophie Duncan (Fantasy)
-The Machine by Natasha Duncan-Drake (Sci-Fi/Fantasy)
-All In The Mind by Sophie Duncan (Sci-Fi)

Paranormal
-Timothy by Natasha Duncan-Drake
-Girl In The Mirror by Sophie Duncan
-The Vampire Who Loved Me by Natasha Duncan-Drake
-Cleave to Until Forever by Natasha Duncan-Drake
-The Name Is The Game by Sophie Duncan

Young & New Adult
-Wolf: Samling Born by Sophie Duncan (Werewolves)
-Lost Kitty by Natasha Duncan-Drake (Sci-Fi)
-The Beginning - (Prequel to The Avebury Legacy) by Natasha Duncan-Drake (Vampires)
-The End of The Journey (The Hidden War #1) by Sophie Duncan (Fantasy)
-A New Path (The Hidden War #2) by Sophie Duncan (Fantasy)

Horror
-Just One Day by Sophie Duncan
-The Crosses We Bear by Natasha Duncan-Drake
-BFF by Sophie Duncan
-Dead Not Dying by Natasha Duncan-Drake
-Queen of My World by Sophie Duncan
-Sleep of the Damned by Natasha Duncan-Drake

Romance
-A Special Catch by Sophie Duncan (Sci-Fi)
-Connections by Natasha Duncan-Drake (Sci-Fi)
-Incubus Shadows by Sophie Duncan (Paranormal)
-God of Love by Natasha Duncan-Drake (Paranormal)
-Undercover by Sophie Duncan (Contemporary)
-All That Glitters by Natasha Duncan-Drake (Contemporary)

If you would prefer to select stories by genre, they are also available in five separate anthologies:
- Book of Darkness: Horror Stories From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games
- Beyond Our Horizon: Science Fiction and Fantasy Stories From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games
- Supernature: Paranormal Stories From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games
- Romantics: Erotic Romance Stories From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games
- Bright Young Things: Young Adult Stories From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games

Also, if you are a particular fan of Natasha Duncan-Drake, or Sophie Duncan, their stories are also available in individual anthologies:
- Half of Everything: Stories by Natasha Duncan-Drake From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games
- The Other Half of Everything: Stories by Sophie Duncan From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wittegen Press
• Release date: Jan 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781908333391

Sophie Duncan

Half my time I am a project manager developing IT solutions. The other half, you'll find me scribbling away at many a story that just won't leave me alone. I've been writing since I was a wee thing, and publishing since I discovered the internet in 1994 or so.So what do I write? Contemporary and urban fantasy have mainly been my playground, but I have done some real world settings as well. I do like mystery and have been reading (and watching) Agatha Christie since I was a child. I've also been known to do a bit of poetry.Style: I have been told I do angst well, so if you want your heartstrings twanged, or your tummy to tie in knots until the end, then I'm your gal. I am, however, a happy ending junkie, although I do throw a hint of realism in there sometimes as well. I like a few twists and turns on the way in some of my plots, although I have written my share of PWPs as well. I have to admit a small obsession with eyes: I believe they are the seat of beauty in a person, so I play with them in creature fic and use them for expression in others - personal hang up, sorry. Also, I have never met a cliché I didn't like and I am a firm believer that cliché is fine if you do it right.Writing is a passion and there's nothing better than writing for an audience. Any writer who says they don't care about feedback must have had an ego amputation :) If you life my scribbles, I'd be very glad to hear from you.

Book preview

Fantasy & Science Fiction

Six stories ranging from dragons to artificial intelligence with telepathy and telekinesis on the way.

To Life Reborn

by

Natasha Duncan-Drake

Author's Note

Dragons, who doesn't love dragons? That was my main motivation for this story. I started reading frequently, because I discovered fantasy when young and dragons have always had a special place in my heart. Even if my first sojourn into fantasy, other than good old fairy stories, was The Hobbit.

Saying that, the funny thing really then is that dragons don't make a huge appearance in this story until the end, but they underlie the whole thing.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the story.

~*~

Daylight was something Tren hadn't seen in several days. Hence, when he was dragged out of his cell into the yard he was virtually blind and couldn't tell what was going on. He didn't think they were going to hang him, after all he'd only been caught stealing food. If it had been money or jewels he would have been for the drop, but the High Sherriff didn't usually call for blood when hunger was the motivation. Unless of course they were having a spectacle hanging to entertain the masses; there were quite a few prisoners in the yard with him.

He still couldn't work out what was going on even once he managed to convince his eyes to work. The prisoners had been moved into rows and there was an old woman with a bent back walking between them as if they were on parade. Any who decided to say anything to her were being hit and dragged back inside, which was why when it came to his turn Tren stood very still and remained completely silent.

He realised as she looked at him that her eyes were milky white. If he had seen her in the street he would have assumed she was blind, but her gaze was far too sharp for that to be true. The way she stared at him made him incredibly uncomfortable, as if she was looking beyond his face and straight into his head.

After several long seconds she turned to her companion and simply nodded. Tren then found himself grabbed from behind by a guard, but instead of being dragged back to his cell he was dragged in a completely different direction. He was thrown onto a covered cart, where he was joined shortly by four others and then the flaps were tied so they couldn't see out and no one could see in.

Where the hell are they taking us? one of his companions asked as they moved off.

The reply from one of the other prisoners was not polite and Tren decided to stay well out of it. He sat back in his little corner of the cart and kept silent. Nothing interesting happened for quite some time.

Out, someone said when they finally stopped again.

The flaps were drawn back and Tren followed the other four off the cart into another grey courtyard. The armed man waiting for them definitely wasn't a prison guard, his leather armour was of far too high a quality. However, the armour also had no distinguishing marks to give Tren a clue as to where he might be.

Strip and wash, the man said with the whip of command and pointed at a pump a few feet to the left.

That was the point where Tren decided he was unlikely to be about to be executed, because he was pretty sure executioners didn't really care how dirty their victims were. The four men in front of him seemed utterly confused by the order and so was Tren, but he moved to obey. There were wash cloths and soap by the pump and he stripped off his clothes and reached for them before pumping some water to wet the cloth. The others soon caught on.

It wasn't as if he was attached to his clothes, since they stank of prison and filth, but that didn't mean he was overly pleased when another nameless person stole them.

Through that door, was the next order when their main guard deemed them all clean enough and threw towels at them.

Tren wrapped the towel around his waist and went where he was directed. Being a thief he appreciated the craftsmanship of the lock on the door they were pushed through. Wherever they were going was designed to be locked up tight.

Inside, a woman in armour, not something you saw every day in the city, handed them each a plain smock and leggings. Tren pulled his on, glad to be covered again, and walked into the next room when the door was opened. He really didn't expect there to be another room full of people waiting for them, all dressed in exactly the same manner. What really grabbed his attention, however, was the large pennant on the wall. It was gold cloth with a huge black and red dragon right in the centre.

By all the gods, he whispered under his breath.

The woman who had given him his clothes had followed them from the other room and she walked up on to the raised area beneath the pennant.

Welcome to the Dragon Halls, she said, bringing the whole room to silence as she looked around, catching each of their gazes, one by one. You have all been passed by the Wise One and you are here to become Dragon Soldiers. I don't care who you were out there, in here you are petitioners and you will do everything you are told when you are told.

She glared at them all to make sure they understood that.

There are no penalties for disobeying, she said, which sounded a bit strange to Tren, you will simply be thrown out and taken back to where you came from.

That at least was nicely straightforward, not that Tren ever wanted to go back to prison.

Not all of you will become Dragon Soldiers, the woman continued to speak, some will leave or be removed; others will die of the change fever; if you're really lucky you might even be eaten by a dragon. This is not an easy road and the door is there for any who change their mind.

Given the option of a dirty dark cell and the Dragon Halls, Tren knew he would be sticking around for a while.

For the first few days you will be given instruction in everything dragon, the woman told them, which you will learn. On day five you will reach the point of no return. You will take the brand and begin the change. This is all you need to know, any questions?

No one was stupid enough to put up their hands.

~*~

Tren's mind was still reeling several hours later after they had all been fed and shown to their barracks. Dragon Soldiers were the defence of the realm. Everyone knew they were not quite human and that not all candidates survived the training, but Tren had had no idea that some of them were prison conscripts. It was clear that he had a simple choice, try and become a Dragon Soldier or go back to his dark, dark hole and rot, but that didn't make it any easier to come to terms with.

He was a thief. He had always been a thief. With twelve siblings there was no way his parents could afford to keep him, so he'd found himself on the street with only a handful of summers under his belt. He had lived on his wits since and he was known in certain circles as a very good thief. The only reason he had been caught was because he'd been drunk and happened to steal some meat. Well half a pig actually. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Soldiering was really not his thing, but he couldn't think of a way out of it. The walls were very high and the locks very secure as well as being heavily patrolled. The fact that he had a bed, a warm blanket, food and clothes was making it look more appealing, but he didn't exactly fancy dying.

It was also a mixed barracks, something several of the petitioners seemed to find unsettling. There were only six women among the seventeen men, but it was enough to agitate some. Tren just picked a bed and put his stuff on it. When a young blond woman finally decided on the one next to him he did his best not to look interested. The last thing he needed was connections to anyone, least of all anyone of the female persuasion.

Hello.

He almost grimaced when she spoke to him.

Hello, he replied, unwilling to be outright unpleasant, because it never ended well for him, but really not wanting to have a conversation.

I'm Ilana, she said and smiled at him, what's your name.

Tren, he replied.

So how long have you wanted to be a Dragon Soldier?

He did his best to keep a perfectly straight face.

Oh, it was a recent thing, he told her, very recent.

Really? Ilana asked. I've wanted to join for as long as I can remember. You have no idea how excited I was when I went to the choosing and the Wise One picked me.

I was more shocked than excited, Tren said.

There were no rules about not revealing where you had come from, but Tren really didn't want to broadcast his criminal background. If he was going to escape at some point he needed everyone to be lulled into a false sense of security.

I can imagine, Ilana said. I have been studying dragons since I was a girl, but I am sure there are all sorts of things they aren't allowed to explain outside the halls. Do you want to see?

Before he could object she had dropped her bag on her bed and was pulling out a huge journal. She flipped it open and showed him a beautiful picture of a huge blue dragon.

This is a male valor, she said, walking over to show him more closely, see here I made notes about it.

Tren just nodded and looked blankly at the words.

I've made notes on everything, Ilana said, flipping through the book, you can borrow it if you like.

Oh I can't, he blurted out before his brain caught up with his mouth, um ...

Ilana looked at him confused.

I don't mind, she said.

He really didn't know what to say.

No, he eventually decided he had to admit the truth, I can't...

He waved at the words that meant nothing to him.

Oh, oh, she said, blushing as she realised what he was trying to say, I'm so sorry, I didn't think.

Tren just hoped she would finally shut up.

Would you, Ilana asked hesitantly, would you like to learn? I could teach you to read if you like.

Not a lot surprised Tren, not after living on the streets, but that did.

You'd do that? he asked, honestly shocked.

Yes, she replied, smiling again although a little more tentatively, it would be my pleasure.

Reading and writing were something he had always thought about trying to learn, but he had never had the opportunity. The fact that a complete stranger was offering totally wrong footed him.

Thank you, he finally said and then Ilana's smile became a full blown one again.

It was only later when she was babbling on to him about this kind of dragon and that kind of dragon that he realised he'd somehow made a friend. It was perplexing.

~*~

It turned out there was a lot to learn about dragons. Tren spent his days learning more than he thought possible and then his evenings learning how to read from Ilana. Never in a million years would he have thought he might start wanting to stick around, rather than being forced to, but he had to admit he was intrigued. He still didn't want to die, but his brain was soaking up the information like a sponge. It didn't sound like such a bad life.

Tren had had no idea that dragons had a hierarchy and it was this hierarchy that denoted the hierarchy within the ranks of the humans who rode them. That was why it made no difference who you were outside the Dragon Halls, once you were a Dragon Soldier it was your dragon that counted.

The lower ranking dragons would usually accept more than one rider, part bonding with a group of humans who took turns in riding it while all cared for it. The groups acted like a family type structure.

However, the higher ranking dragons would only bond with one rider at a time. Only when the rider died was another one chosen and the bond was a full bond, meaning rider and dragon were mentally connected at all times. One of their instructors, Kay, the woman from the first day, said it was a survival adaptation. Those at the top of the heap could not risk being less than in perfect synchronisation.

Tren could not imagine what that must be like. However, for the first time in his life he began to wonder if there was a life for him outside the gutter. His existence had always been about survival and this was just a different kind of survival. Each evening he let Ilana witter on about all they were learning, just putting in the odd word here and there, but her enthusiasm was infectious.

They lost six before they even reached day five. One was a lordling who could not handle being nobody and was sent back to his father still shouting and screaming about his position and how those in charge would regret it. Three decided they just couldn't do it, including one of the men who had come in with Tren. Two were thrown out because they continually failed the tests they were all given at the end of each day and the last one was another of Tren's fellow convicts who was run through after trying to attack one of their instructors.

On day five they were all taken to the teaching room as usual and then one by one they were taken out. No one came back in, so Tren assumed they were being taken back to the barracks. When his name was called he stood and walked to the front of the room and Ilana gave him a supportive smile as he walked by.

He followed his escort, one of the other instructors called Gynal, down the empty corridor and then down some stone stairs. When he walked into the room below he almost fell over his own feet. He knew it was called a brand and all the instructors had shown them to their class, but he hadn't thought it was genuinely created by fire. The brands he had seen had been over the heart, but hadn't looked like burns. However, there in front of him was a fire pit and there were irons in the fire.

It only hurts for a few moments, his guide told him, but he didn't see how that was possible.

On his left leg there was a burn scar from when he had been younger and not fast enough to run away from retribution. That had hurt for days and festered, almost costing him the leg.

Hello, boy.

He had been so focused on the fire that he had not even noticed that the Wise One was standing in the room. Her voice was as old and as gnarled as she seemed to be, but it was the kind of voice that was impossible to ignore.

Wise One, he replied with a bow of his head.

She laughed at him for that.

Manners, she said, I like that. Where did you learn to be so courtly, boy?

I observed, he replied.

Sometimes he had to pretend to be what he was not and he always watched those around him carefully.

Are you ready to be more than you ever thought possible, boy? she asked him.

It was a strange question, but it felt important nevertheless. There was a heavy feeling in the room and it weighed on him like a physical force.

Yes, he said and it was actually hard to say.

Good, she said, nodding to herself.

Only then did Kay step forward from where she was standing beside the fire pit.

Come forward, Kay said. Remove your shirt and take hold of these two posts.

Tren could not say he really wanted to obey, his flight instinct was firing, but he found himself walking forward anyway. His shirt slipped over his head easily and he placed it on a table next to one of the posts. There were finger indents at just the right height in the posts and he gripped first one, then the other. It was only as he went to rearrange his grip that he realised he could not let go.

He looked to Kay as she pulled one of the irons from the fire and he simply panicked. It was pure instinct and he tried desperately to pull away, but he was stuck.

Calm yourself, she said and the whip of command helped him a little.

He managed to take one deep breath and then another and he closed his eyes. It took all of his long practiced will power to force himself to hold still and then he opened his eyes again and looked at her.

Do not move, Kay instructed meeting his gaze very directly. This will be unpleasant, but it will pass. Remember it will pass.

He nodded and then steeled himself.

The brand was glowing white hot and he had to tear his eyes away from it. He fixed his gaze on the far wall and did his best to take his mind somewhere else. He began to go over the reading lessons Ilana had been giving him and refused to think about what was going to occur. He was so focused he barely noticed Gynal coming up behind him.

When the branding iron touched his skin it was so much worse and yet better than he had expected at the same time. There was a blinding pain that made the whole world go white and caused his legs to give out. He might even have screamed he wasn't sure, but as the iron was taken away he felt something else. It burned, but not like the fire and it ran through him like a flash.

Arms caught him as the enchantment on the posts let go and his grip released and he all but collapsed.

Breathe, Gynal instructed him, just breathe.

He did his best, but the pain in his chest made his lungs feel tight and the flash of something had made him all lightheaded. It took him a few moments to realise the pain of the brand was dimming far more quickly than it should have. He looked down rather stupidly at his chest and the angry red skin was changing colour. As he watched, it went completely black and then the flesh just appeared to flake away. Underneath the black was the silvery, multicoloured dragon mark that looked like an oil sheen on water.

Can you stand? Gynal asked him as he finally managed to bring his breathing under control.

He nodded, unwilling to trust his voice, but managing to get his legs under him. He felt as if he had just run for his life and failed as his chest ached and his muscles shook. When Gynal left him to stand on his own feet he swayed somewhat, but he managed to stay upright.

Well done, Lad, Kay said and smiled at him.

At some point she had put the iron back in the fire and he was more than glad not to see it again.

The worst is over, Gynal told him and then guided him towards another table.

Lying on it were two large dragon scales and a knife.

Take the knife, Kay told him as she went to stand on the other side of the table.

It was only a small thing when he picked it up.

Hold your left arm above this scale, Kay instructed, draw the blade across your wrist and then place your arm on the scale like this.

She demonstrated so that the top of her wrist was flush with the top of the scale.

Tren did not like tests of pain, but clearly Dragon Soldiers did and he had gone far too far to stop now. The blade was very sharp and when he touched it to his skin he barely had to push to draw blood. The moment his wrist touched the dragon scale it began to bend. It curled up like the plants he had seen in the marshes eating insects, only, in this, his wrist was the prey.

At least that didn't hurt, well, not until the scale began to melt. It was nowhere near as painful as the brand, but it wasn't completely pleasant as his skin felt as if it was stretching in nasty ways. He put the knife down, not daring to touch the scale, but needing to grip the base of his forearm as the scale continued to change. It finally dawned on him that it seemed to be melding with his wrist.

Kay pulled up the edge of her sleeve, revealing patternation around her wrist as Tren's began to settle into something similar.

It makes you part dragon, she said as he waited for it to finish.

Of course there was no respite even when it was done, because he had to do the same for the other wrist. It was worse knowing what was about to happen and he knew full well why this wasn't explained in detail. He also knew why they hadn't been given breakfast that morning; no doubt it would have been decorating the floor by now. By the time the second one was done he was feeling lightheaded all over again.

The fact that he had just done something from which there was totally no way out and it might actually kill him also had a certain percentage of his attention. Of course that he wasn't dead already was a good start.

Look at me, Lad, Gynal said as he swayed and blinked and tried to reassert his balance. Now I'll take you back to the barracks. There's food there and you must eat, then you must sleep, do you understand?

He nodded even though his head felt completely woolly.

You will have a mild fever when you wake up, the man continued to explain. It will last for days, but what you have to look for is if it gets worse. Tell one of us immediately if it does.

He nodded again.

The fact he managed to miss most of the trip back to the barracks wasn't really a surprise, but just how hungry he was when presented with food was. He ate what he suspected might have been half his body weight, noticed that Ilana arrived at some point and was doing the same thing before falling face first into his bunk. The pillow was lovely and cool.

~*~

Tren spent the next week feeling like he had a summer cold that would not quit. It made his body ache and half the time he was too hot while the other half he was too cold, but it wasn't all that bad. For others it was worse. Two died the first night, a man and a woman, both of whom never woke up from their first sleep. Another man died the next day and he was one of the few Tren had spoken to; his name had been Artar. Four more had started showing severe symptoms of fever and two had recovered, one had succumbed on day five and the other was still holding on.

Both those who had gone through the more severe fever had changed physically. One of the men now had lizard eyes and the other had gained claws on one hand. They also both seemed much calmer than they had been, as if they had seen the other side of chaos and it had changed them. Both were now helping everyone else.

They now only had lessons in the morning for those who were feeling up to it and Tren spent most of his time with Ilana as she continued to teach him to read. It was going to take a while before he was any good at it, but he was enjoying the task. Because they spent their time so close it was he who noticed Ilana was not herself on the eighth day after they had all taken the brand. She was trying to teach him more complicated words and she seemed to start forgetting herself in the middle of explaining something.

Ilana, I think you should lie down, he said as she lost her place for the fourth time.

When she looked at him he could see fear in her eyes.

Oh dear, she said in the gentle way she had about her, I don't feel well.

She tried to stand up and simply fell and Tren caught her.

Someone help, please, he called, doing his best to lower her to the bed.

Having had the fever for so many days he was feeling weak himself and it was difficult not to drop her. One of the two men who had already survived, Tren thought his name was Lorn, came over immediately and helped him lie Ilana down.

You don't look too good yourself, Lorn told him as he did his best to assist, maybe you should lie down.

Tren didn't want to lie down when Ilana was clearly beginning to go through the worst of the fever, but when the healer arrived to check on her, the man urged him into his bunk. He stayed there until the man went away, having done everything possible for Ilana, and then he sat up and moved to the chair next to his friend. She was sleeping, but he slipped his fingers into hers and held on.

You're not to die, he told her firmly. I have one real friend in this world and it's you, so you have to live.

Ilana moved a little in her sleep, squeezing his hand in an unconscious gesture and it was good enough for him for now.

He sat with Ilana all the afternoon and into the evening. When the others tried to urge him into bed he refused, but he could tell his fever was getting worse as well. He did tell the second healer who came to check on Ilana and she dosed him up on something, but the woman didn't make him go to his own bed.

Only when he moved a little sideways and managed to fall off his chair did the assistants finally force the issue. They tucked him up with a compress on his head and he fell into fever dreams.

At first he was back on the streets being chased for stealing things he had never even seen. He kept running and running and he knew if he stopped he would be caught and killed. The thing was, he just couldn't remember who he was running from. Of course dreams did not have to make sense and when he tripped and fell he climbed to his feet to find himself in the dark of the cell.

The smell of death and waste hung heavy in the room and there didn't seem to be enough of the stale air to let him breathe properly. He had to struggle for each breath and he slowly collapsed into a heap on the rotten straw. Lying there he knew he was fighting for his life and his whole world narrowed down to breathing in and out. Each time he had to think, had to make his lungs work and each time it was a surprise when he managed it. He had been born a fighter and he would go out the same way.

When he finally opened his eyes to light and good air he could have cried. In fact he realised shortly there was no could about it.

Here, said a gentle voice, drink this.

He smelled herbs and someone helped him lift his head and put a cup to his mouth. The water felt so cool in his parched throat that he never wanted the feeling to go away.

Just relax, the voice told him and he could barely focus on the woman talking to him, you've had a bad time of it.

He realised slowly that she was one of the ones who had not started the worst of the fever when he had succumbed, but she had the same air about her as the others who had survived. The logical conclusion was that he had been unconscious for some time.

How long? he asked.

Six days, his carer told him. We'd almost given up on you.

Tren had almost given up on himself. He was exhausted.

You can go back to sleep now, the woman said and smiled at him; your fever has broken and you need the rest.

Tren was too tired to argue and he nodded, letting his eyes fall closed. Just before they did he remembered something important and looked right: Ilana's bed was empty.

~*~

Tren woke properly several hours later, feeling much more rested and stronger. His first thought was for Ilana and he sat up rapidly. There were ten people missing now and the others either seemed to be in the throws of severe fever or walking around with the air of those who had survived. Ilana was nowhere in the barracks.

Where is Ilana? he asked, catching the first person who walked past.

They took her away the first night she was fevered, Lorn said.

She's ..? Tren could not bring himself to say it.

Not when they took her, Lorn said, placing a hand on his arm. They won't explain, but she was still alive when she left here.

Did they take any of the others? he asked, needing to know.

Only her, Lorn replied and that gave him hope.

If all the others had died as he had seen the first ones do and only then been taken away, that Ilana had been taken before meant she could still be alive. What it signified in the long run he had no idea, but it was a hope he held on to.

Thank you, he said and let Lorn go to help someone who needed it more.

It took him a few minutes, but he managed to get himself out of bed and into the small communal bathroom. There was water there for him to wash and he took a piss before heading back into the other room and falling back onto his bed. The fact the Ilana was missing caused him anxiety, but he knew why the others seemed different, because he felt different as well. It was as if there was something ancient in the back of his mind, something that made everything else seem vaguely small. With it there, there was nothing he could not overcome.

One of the others brought him some food and he thanked them and ate it and tried to let the calm overcome his worries. If the hierarchy had taken Ilana it had to have been for a good reason and he would soon find out. If she was dead then he would deal with the pain when it came to it.

He slept a while longer then found some clothes and began to help as the others were doing. He felt a kinship with them he had never before experienced in his life and helping was what he wanted to do, not something he was forced into.

It was night again when everything went to hell in little more than a minute.

There was a great bellow from outside the walls of the barracks. They heard the dragons every now and then, even though they could not see them from where they were being housed, but this was different. The sound was full of pain and denial and Tren felt it go through his whole body.

That wasn't the worst, however, because a little while later, the bellow came again, only this time it was so full of sorrow that Tren could literally sense it. He pushed his hands over his ears, not wanting to hear something so terrible. This time the bellow did not stop and all the Dragon Soldiers went running from the room, leaving the petitioners to look after themselves. Tren could not shut out the sound and he curled onto the floor where he had been tending to one of his brethren. The call ran along every muscle, every fibre of his being and into his head, making his eyes run with tears and his heart ache with the grief.

It was the most heart wrenching thing he had ever experienced and all he wanted to do was stop it.

Please, he begged the noise, please, no more.

He wanted to curl up in a heap and pass out, but the bellow would not let him go. He had to help, needed to do something and eventually he pulled himself to his feet. Barely anything made it through apart from the terrible sound and he staggered towards the door. Somebody had to stop the pain and it called to him.

Of course the door was locked; it always was when there were no Dragon Soldiers with them. He pulled on it futilely, but it would not budge. He needed to get out, nothing else mattered and he looked around the room, eyes blind except to his instincts. There were windows in the barracks, but they were high up, far too high to climb. At least far too high to climb unless you were a master thief and could scale walls designed never to be scaled.

His mind was working without his conscious thoughts now and he calculated his ascent without even letting his forethoughts understand what was about to happen. He ran at one of the empty beds, launched himself off it onto a small shelf and then up to the window edge that he caught with his finger tips. Then he pulled himself up.

Tren, what are you doing? someone called after him, but he was totally focussed and took no notice of them.

The window was high, but dropped into a courtyard with a slightly sloping wall. It was enough for Tren to slow his jump down and he rolled at the bottom, coming to his feet at a run.

Hey, you, stop, someone on the outside challenged him, but he didn't so much as pause.

The sound of distress was too raw, too real and he had to do something. He made a direct line for it, not knowing where he was going, but just following his instincts. He dodged people and things and ran down corridors and across courtyards until he came to a door guarded by two very large men. In his frenzy he just went straight for them.

Woah, one of the men said, catching him and he struggled until the man pinned him to the wall, you can't go in there.

The bellow resounded again and he pushed his hands to his ears, crying out in time with the call. It was too much, too close and he couldn't articulate what he was feeling.

By all the demons in hell, his captor said, get Matric now.

The dragon call was so loud and so encompassing that he thought he might die from the grief that ran through him with every second.

Hang in there, Young'un, the man holding him said, help's coming.

Tren didn't know if he could hold on.

What is going on? a new voice demanded and Tren whimpered as the bellow increased in volume.

Look at him, the man holding him said.

But he's one of the new recruits, the other voice replied as if this caused some consternation.

That's why I called you rather than letting him in, his captor said.

Open your eyes, Boy, the new voice that had to be Matric instructed.

Tren hadn't even realised he had closed them and did his best to do as he was told.

Drall's huge hairy balls, the man now standing directly in front of him said.

He had no idea who the person he was looking at was, he'd never seen the man before, but something in him told him the man was in charge.

Get him in there now, Matric ordered and Tren discovered he didn't have to struggle anymore, because he was being half carried in the right direction. This is Wren's last laugh that's what this is. Silly old cow.

There was something of fondness in the man's voice and something of sorrow, but Tren was too far gone to make any sense of it. He found himself taken through a small corridor into a courtyard and he came face to face with his first dragon. The creature was the size of about seven horses all stacked on top of each other and she, somehow Tren knew it was a she, was all but pure white with silver edges to her scales. Tren started reaching for her without remotely thinking about it.

Let him go, you idiot, Matric said and as soon as he was free Tren staggered straight towards the dragon.

Had he been in his right mind he would have done no such thing, because he had been taught about how dangerous dragons were to those they didn't know, but he was very far from his right mind. All he knew was he had to stop the pain any way he could. The moment he touched her he felt something akin to lightning running up his spine and the bellow changed to a surprised, strangled cry.

He felt her pain so clearly he fell to his knees sobbing. He couldn't even hold himself up, slumping against her side, and he just bared his soul, willing to do anything to help her. His head was spinning, his heart ached and his body seemed completely remote as a dragon invaded his very being. Everything else in his awareness just went away and he floated in the mind of a dragon as his own psyche was intimately investigated. Eventually even that went away and there was nothing but darkness.

~*~

Everything is proceeding normally, Sir, a rather harassed voice said, pulling Tren from his cocoon of black.

I want to know the moment anything changes.

Tren recognised Matric's voice and the man sounded anxious.

Of course, Sir, the first person replied.

Then there were footsteps.

Is it just me, a third voice asked, or does he get worse the older he gets?

He gets worse, the original speaker agreed with a laugh.

Excuse me, said yet another person and this one Tren recognised perfectly, at which point he tried to sit up.

That was when he realised he was pinned down. Only slowly did it dawn on him that he was lying against a scaly leg and chest and over him was a large scaly claw. He was also sheltered from the rest of the world by a large leathery wing. Basically he was being cuddled by a dragon.

[Well met, Guardian mine,] a voice said in his mind and he felt the warm thrill of total recognition.

[Well met, Dragon mine,] he replied.

Logically he should have been at least reeling from shock, but he found that physically impossible at the sense of rightness he felt about his current position.

[I am so sorry for your loss,] he said, still feeling the edges of grief from his dragon.

[I will miss her, but Wren was ready to cross to the next realm. You came to me when I needed you and that is all that can be asked. Now, go to the one you wish to see, just do not venture too far as yet. I need you close.]

The huge wing drew back and Tren found himself released so he could sit up. He had missed the rest of the conversation going on outside, but he was just in time to see Ilana turn from where she had handed something to one of two white robed individuals.

Ilana, he said, elated to see her.

She turned back and immediately broke into a bright smile.

Tren, she said and he pushed himself to his feet as she rushed towards him.

The hug was fierce.

I thought, by the gods, I don't know what I thought, he said as they finally drew apart.

I am fine, she told him, understanding what he was trying to say even though he wasn't saying it very well. I was so worried about you, but they wouldn't let me come back in.

Why?

Oh, she said, face lighting up again, I'm a healer, a Dragon Healer; I'm so excited. They say eventually I'll be able to connect to all the dragons so I can help them when they're injured. I was taken out of the barracks because of my developing empathy.

At that point a large snout appeared next to Tren's shoulder and sniffed at Ilana.

Ilana, Bestla, Bestla, Ilana, he introduced automatically and then realised he had never been consciously told his dragon's name, he just seemed to know it.

Hello, Ilana said, looking up, eyes wide and awed.

Welcome, child, Tren found himself saying in a tone that was definitely not his, it is nice to meet you.

Tren blinked as his body snapped back to being his own and Ilana stared at him. It was only then that his friend, who he never would have called slow, but sometimes oblivious, caught up with what was actually going on.

You, you, by all that's holy, Ilana said, which was the closest Tren had ever heard her come to swearing, you're the new Wise One.

What? he asked as he completely failed to comprehend that.

He was well aware he had bonded with a dragon; it was kind of hard to miss, but Wise One?

I'm not wise, he pointed out.

Bestla snorted through her nose and, given the burst of amusement he felt, he realised it was the equivalent of a dragon chuckle.

[We shall be wise together, Young One,] Bestla told him.

Would someone mind telling me what is going on here? Matric's voice made him look around.

We are renewing friendships, you old goat, Tren said as Bestla decided to answer for them and then he tried very hard not to blush.

And there I was hoping without Wren's influence you would be a bit politer, Matric replied, looking up at the dragon.

Hah, just because neither of us would take your rubbish, Tren said, but he could feel the underlying affection behind the words being spoken through him.

Just as long as you remember who's in charge you over grown newt, Matric replied and his inflection had changed.

Tren realised that there were four of them involved in the conversation and Matric's dragon had just spoken. It was utterly bizarre and yet it also made perfect sense.

And what do you have to say for yourself, Young One? Matric's dragon asked.

Um, how did this happen? he asked the first honest question that came into his head.

Just what I wanted to know, Matric replied, but at least now I know why my Wise One insisted on invoking an ancient law that allowed us to offer places to convicted criminals. I thought she was going senile.

Criminal? Ilana asked, looking surprised, but not disgusted.

Thief, he admitted and did blush this time.

[My thief,] Bestla said, but only in his mind.

[Did you know?] he asked.

[Not exactly,] she replied, [but we have known Wren was not long for this realm for some months. When we were drawn to invoke the old ways we did not argue and when we saw you in that yard we knew you would be significant, but not how.]

And you are? Matric turned to Ilana.

Ilana, Sir, the girl replied with a small bow, new Dragon Healer. Tren and I were petitioners together.

Well met, Healer, Matric said and it was clearly the man's dragon speaking again.

The way Matric rubbed between his eyes suggested to Tren the man had a headache coming.

Make sure to eat, was all the man said, looking back at him and then wandered away muttering about healers in petitioner groups and thieves bonding with dragons.

Tren could not help thinking he and Ilana were at least partly to blame for Matric's pain.

He takes things too seriously, Bestla said through him. A hot bath, he called after the retreating man; it will work wonders.

It was about then that Tren decided being embarrassed by what his body said when his dragon was in control was either going to be a full time job or totally not worth the effort.

The man and woman who had been standing quietly off to the side now swooped on him and he ended up being looked over by the woman while the man checked on Bestla. He bore the examination as stoically as his dragon, which was basically not at all, as she complained about overbearing healers the whole time. Some of it out loud through his mouth.

Ilana at least had the decency not to laugh at him until she was sent off on whatever errands she had been running before he woke up.

~*~

It was two days before he could leave Bestla's side and he slept, ate and did everything in the courtyard. He was introduced to more people than he knew how to keep track of, including the Queen and her retinue. He'd never met anyone so high ranking before, but Bestla knew how to react and so Tren had just followed her lead. It had been that visit where he had caught his first glimpse of himself since the bonding in one knight's shiny breastplate.

His eyes were as white as Wren's had been and it kind of changed his whole face.

Where before he had been dark eyed and possibly a little shifty looking, if he was honest with himself, now he had a sort of other world look to him, just as Wren had. He'd been subjected to a thorough scrub and a haircut before the Queen's visit as well, so he'd also appeared a lot neater than usual. He almost looked the part he was playing, actually, which was kind of a shock.

He'd also found out that usually, when someone so important died their replacement came from the lower ranks so the person chosen had some experience. It was quite possible for a part bonded Dragon Soldier to leave his or her dragon and there had been several candidates. The problems had occurred because when Wren had died Bestla's call had not attracted any of those waiting for it.

That he was the new Wise One felt a little like madness at times, but there was no arguing with a dragon in your head.

Everything that had been Wren's was now his, as was the tradition in such cases. He had rooms and a huge number of books he couldn't read and so the first thing he did when he finally saw them was invite Ilana over to continue with his lessons.

For the first time since he was very young he had a place to call his own and people who saw him as more than simply a means to acquiring property that was not their own. It was all very new and very exciting and he had no words to describe what it was like to be so connected to a dragon.

His life had gone from nowhere to somewhere so significant that sometimes he had to remind himself it was real. It was going to take some getting used to, but at least now he had friends to help him. The future looked bright.

####

The Gift

by

Sophie Duncan

Author's Note

This piece is the start of a longer story, in this case, epic fantasy. In fact, when this does become the novel (or novels, I think this may be a serial) I want it to be, there is a whole sub plot that I ripped out of the text below to make it a short story. This sub plot will be going back in to lead into the rest of the plot. This story also has a prologue that I did not publish with the short story, because as a short, it doesn't really need, it, but, I've included it here as a little bit of background.

I enjoy reading high fantasy, I cut my reader's teeth on the likes of David Eddings and I find the genre has a lot of potential in my imagination too. Magic, sentient non-humans, a whole new world to build, all appeal to me. There are no boundaries when you're developing your own rules, even the Laws of Physics can be subverted in high fantasy, something I don't feel as free to do in contemporary fantasy. The only tricky thing is remembering your own rules, especially if you have more than one fantasy universe in your head :P.

My favourite character from this short is Myx. I like dragons, but it's more than that. I like sassy sidekicks and I don't know why, but I had Mary Tamm's Romana from Dr Who in mind when I first conceived of Myx. They are both high born and know their own mind. Myx is bossier than Romana and a lot more temperamental, she's also a flirt. The reaction of my then boyfriend when I created Myx was 'but that's not a dragon' and he proceeded to get his Dungeons and Dragons books out to show me that her type of dragon didn't exist – I didn't have the heart to explain that, actually, someone made those up just like I did!

~*~

Prologue

A thousand generations before the reign of Wizard-Master Maudlin, there existed no concept of The Darklands. The known world was divided into two great and equal kingdoms known simply as The North and The South. Those of magic lived freely with Normals from both realms, but, although more numerous, we took few forms. Humans controlled all known magic and they chose to use it for war.

North and South clashed on their mutual border, each greedy for the other's land. King fought King, peasant fought peasant and wizard fought wizard. The armies were equally matched and thousands perished, or suffered the corruption of errant magic without ground being yielded by either side.

Yet, the people were stubborn and the war destroyed a generation. The constant battleground became a desolate wasteland, twisted by powerful sorceries. Populations lost half their number from the horror and another third succumbed to famine and disease.

Eventually, the magic-wielders saw their work, strange things made from animals and humans, broken land for a thousand square miles. Their terror was such that they broke their ranks and turned to their enemies. An agreement was reached between all those of magic to cease their part in the battle. In retribution, the Normals cast out their own, siblings, parents, children, all were banished for their cowardice.

Wizards hid themselves for many years, choosing not to interfere as the senseless fighting drove on, unabated. Then, at last, one of their number, a young woman named, Chen, came forward with an answer. She amassed her compatriots and those Normals willing to heed her words, and then she led them onto the battlefield. They held a shield around them for protection and with it they drove the armies apart. The barrier spread outward to the very boundaries of the desolation, almost from the West coast to the East, creating a new realm of magic.

Thus it remained for a time.

Yet, the Normals were angry with the magic-wielders and they stayed close by the edge of the protection, taunting and screaming insults. This was too painful for those within, who had begun to heal their new land and to organise themselves. And so, they pledged to cut themselves off from the anger. The most powerful from all the new races of magic joined together a last time and drew ragged, impassable mountains up around their homes.

And thus we remained, isolated and content, until curiosity took us out into the world once more. Still, we shall never forget the hatred thrown at us by the Normals and caution keeps the pass to the North and the caverns to the South as our only links to their lands.

~*~

Lord Zephyr gazed out of his window at the growing company in his courtyard. Among the mass of horses and people he recognised several of his numerous offspring - legitimate and illegitimate: today was going to be difficult. It was The Zephyr Gathering Day, the time when, by law, as a Steward of Keep Zephyr reached three score years, all his, or her offspring, male and female, must meet in his castle to select the next holder of the title.

It was magic woven into the fabric of history by a long-forgotten Darklands' wizard. None could be absent, all were compelled by blood to be present, whether they be, in Zephyr's case, an embarrassing example of a man's youth, or his rightful heirs by marriage. One missing and the ancient blessing of protection would turn against the family and the keep would fall before the next winter, or so the prophecy read, and no-one had been fool enough to challenge it in a hundred generations.

Secretly, Zephyr looked upon the magic as a curse, since he had been rather too adventurous in his youth. He knew his wife, Magde, would not be pleased to see the varying crowd of strange faces, numbering at that time, about twenty. His recognised children had gathered a week earlier, some of his middle offspring having travelled a hundred miles or more from where they had taken consorts in other Steward's residences and hence positions in their in-laws houses. Ten in all, the ageing lord was proud of every one from Rik, his eldest at thirty-five, who was captain of the Zephyr guard, to his youngest three, all just turned fifteen, who were still quite a handful, especially Anna, his, if he was honest, favourite daughter.

The noise outside reminded Zephyr that there were others who would state their claim to his lands today, the lands he had groomed Rik to rule when he was gone. He had settled down, happy in his marriage and his years, but, as he surveyed his mixed bunch of bastards being shown into the castle by their half-siblings, he remembered a time when, his youth still with him, a wild spirit had led him out on the road for months at a time.

No unknown face was less than eighteen, which showed when he, in his turn, had been called back to the castle to take his place as Lord-Steward of Zephyr, but those journeying years could not now be laughed off so easily in the presence of so much evidence. Magde would be upset for weeks and he doubted some of his true children would talk to him again. Rik would understand, he hoped, being a little wild as well, but his middle daughters especially took after their wonderful, but fiery mother and would disapprove.

No use regretting it now, old man, Zephyr muttered to himself, turning from the view below.

~*~

Ythran pulled his deep hood as far over his head as possible and climbed off his jittery mount. The creature was as unhappy to be in Zephyr Keep as he was and he walked round to pat her head. He rubbed the black animal's snout with his gloved hand and whispered soothingly, They'll be back soon. We won't stay long, I promise.

The fine creature whinnied and tossed her dual-starred head and Ythran knew he was understood. He sighed to himself and returned to his saddle to pull off his travel bags hanging there.

Big place your daddy has, a quietly teasing voice came over his shoulder.

Ythran spun round abruptly, thudding a heavy bag into Kale, the voice's owner. The tall, fair man doubled over his stomach.

Sorry, Kale, Ythran apologised sarcastically, patting his long-time friend on the shoulder. I must be feeling jumpy.

Kale grunted, but was grinning as he straightened up again. His blue eyes were sparkling with mischief, which always made Ythran nervous. He was proved right to be concerned when Kale quipped with his usual smirk, Let's take down that hood and give 'em all a shock.

Ythran took a rapid step away from his friend and snarled defensively under his breath, No!

Kale's face straightened immediately and he put his palms up.

It was a joke. I wouldn't you know, Ythran... Kale murmured guiltily.

Ythran settled back onto his heels, realising that the long journey and the possible threat of their current situation was getting to him. He would have apologised for his lack of humour, but his thoughts were interrupted when Kale glanced over his shoulder.

Welcome to Zephyr Keep, a stiffly spoken greeting made him turn and Ythran knew from the rich clothes and scowl that he had to be looking at one of his half-brothers.

The short, blond stranger's expression told Ythran all he needed to know, and he bowed deferentially.

There is no requirement for that, the man responded, making it quite clear in his tone that he meant the complete opposite. As brothers, we are equals.

Then I am no equal, My Lord, Kale immediately cut in and maintained his stance as Ythran straightened. A mere travelling companion.

Your man may see to your horses and then find a meal and a place to sleep in the servants' quarters. You will follow me to the rooms prepared for you, his brother rattled off the instructions to Ythran quickly.

But -, Ythran began.

However, the nobleman had already turned and was moving off. Ythran glanced back at Kale, shrugged apologetically to his friend and was sent back a grin of support.

Go on, Kale reassured.

Ythran turned and hurried after his quickly disappearing guide. He caught up with him in a few strides and once he was at his brother's shoulder, he was told, I am Christopher, your lord's fifth son. There are a number of my father's children arriving today. His tone was clearly disapproving. So you will be sharing rooms with another.

I cannot! Ythran blurted out immediately as the consequences of that arrangement shot alarm up his spine.

Christopher stopped and turned to him, arms crossing in front as he demanded, And why not?

Ythran dared to lean closer to his brother and whispered quickly, Please, I have as little wish to be here as you have to see me, but I know the ways of magic run deep in this place and I cannot defy that. However, my identity is my own and I will reveal it to no man save your father who already has the way of it.

Christoper still did not look happy, but Ythran saw his words have an effect. A sharp nod was the young man's only response, but Ythran